[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
say, it wasn t about Conway. Some other guy entirely.
Reno was gripping the telephone with sudden tenseness and leaning
forward. Who? he barked. What was his name?
As I remember, it was some joker named Counsel. Yes, that was it.
Robert Counsel.
Reno exhaled slowly. All right, Dick, he said softly. Read it to me.
I don t care if you have to walk down to your office in your bare feet
and pajamas to get it, but read it to me. Slowly, so I can write it
down.
It s right here at home, in Mac s gear. You think Counsel was ?
Dick, will you read that letter?
It took several minutes, writing it down in longhand. When he had
hung up he read it over again.
Dear Irish:
Always glad to hear from an old classmate. This is all I ve
been able to dig up since your phone call this afternoon, but
I think it ll answer your questions. I just happen to have a
friend who s a major over at the Pentagon, and he was able
to get at the joker s service record.
Robert Counsel was a rare one, from the looks of it.
Inducted as a private in 1942, though he had the
educational background for a commission if he d wanted it.
Refused OCS also, so guess he meant it. Made sergeant,
and was busted back to private for insubordination. General
snottiness, the major said, judging from the record. Served
in North Africa, then in Italy, and was still in Italy after the
war ended. Had points enough to go home, but didn t seem
to care whether he did or not. Court-martialed in 1946 for
black-market operations with stolen Army supplies. Sent to
military prison Stateside and was released in 1951.
Go Home, Stranger 42
Dropped out of sight and nothing on him since. No criminal
record or arrests for anything in civil life, as far as I can
find in our records.
Odd thjng about the case was the fact that they knew
definitely that he d got away with thousands of dollars
worth of cigarettes and medical supplies, but never did find
any of it or any money. He hadn t sent any money out of
Italy that they could discover and apparently hadn t spent
more than the usual GI quota in entertaining the local
belles, nothing at all on liquor because he didn t drink. He
had lived in Italy before the war, however, and spoke the
language fluently, so probably had good connections. Good
crooked connections, that is.
Nor did they ever catch anybody else involved in the
shenanigan. He probably wasn t working alone, but they
never did find the others, and he wouldn t talk. The general
impression seemed to be that he was bored with the trial,
and considered the officers of the court his social inferiors.
Snooty; or did I say that?
Any time I can help you with an easy one like that, just let
me know.
As ever,
CHUCK
There was a postscript. Reno studied it for a long time and shook his
head. It didn t seem possible, but the more you learned about the
mysterious Conway, the less you understood.
P. S. They discovered he had a room in town. But when
they searched it, all they found was a vacuum pump, the
kind you use in physics or chemistry lab in college. When
you figure out what he was doing with that, drop me a line,
will you?
Reno sat on the side of the bed and looked at the cigarette in his
hands. I m headed in the right direction, he thought, but I ll be nuts
before I get there. Mac was killed because he was looking for Conway.
Mrs. Conway was almost killed, apparently for the same reason. And if
you accepted all the evidence and agreed that Conway and Counsel
were the same man, what did you have? You had a dilettante GI with
overtones of larceny, and a vacuum pump, and a trailer hitch, and a
boat that had disappeared. You also had his showing up back in Italy a
Go Home, Stranger 43
year after he was released from military prison, and something he
read in the Waynesport paper . . .
I ve got to get some sleep, he thought. A few more hours of this and
I ll be running down the street foaming at the mouth.
The next morning he felt refreshed, with his mind clear again, and he
knew what he had to do. He bought a secondhand car with out-of-
state license plates and checked out of the hotel, giving San Francisco
as a forwarding address. Then he bought some fishing tackle, picking
it up in secondhand stores and pawnshops so it wouldn t be glaringly
new.
Then he went to see Vickie.
She came into the little room with the detective and sat down across
from him at the table as she had done before. There were shadows
under her eyes, and he knew how desperately she was fighting for
composure. Strain, he thought bitterly; nobody could stand it forever.
What s new, Pete? she asked, trying very hard to smile. She took a
long puff on the cigarette he gave her.
He leaned forward and spoke rapidly, keeping his voice down.
Conway. He gets riper every time you look at him. He told her about
reading Mac s reports, but omitted any mention of the murder attempt
on Mrs. Conway. Vickie had enough on her mind without worrying
about him.
You think he might be the one who
I don t know, he said grimly. Not yet. But the whole deal is
rotten, and I m going to find out what it was. And the place to find out
is Counsel Bayou. I m going down there, but I m not taking a brass
band or wearing a sandwich board. I ll keep in touch with you through
Gage. So don t let any of those damn reporters find out who I am or
where I am, and don t talk to anybody.
It s dangerous, isn t it? she said. He shook his head. No. It s
just that I wouldn t find out anything.
No, she said, her voice going thin and tight. You can t lie to me,
Pete. And I can t let you do it. He s already killed M-Mac. She had
been holding her face together with an intense and concentrated
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]